Shortcut
by Moscow Watcher
Summary: "The Wish", Cordelia's alternate universe. What if Spike was there, too?
1. Chapter 1

Jack: I have to warn you. I've heard relationships based on intense experiences never work.  
Annie: OK. We'll have to base it on sex then.  
Jack: Whatever you say, ma'am.  
"Speed", 1994, dialogs by Joss Whedon

...Actually, Spike went to Sunnyhell on business.

A psychic told him that the key to Dru's cure was located there, so he went for a recon to that little, dead-boring town. Last time he had visited it, a year ago, the place gave him creeps: local teenagers were crazy for Spice Girls, Angel had been waiting for a Slayer's arrival (apparently, he still remembered Spike's promise to give him first crack at her), and the Master had been making plans to build a factory. A factory! Spike tried to explain to the old bugger that the Industrial Revolution had been over two centuries ago, but the pillock refused to listen. Okay, maybe Spike shouldn't have called him pillock and old bugger in the presence of his minions...

He stopped, distracted by the Master's minions, Xander Harris and Willow Rosenberg, who were playing with a pretty girl in a shiny blue dress. It looked like fun.

"We have to find Buffy Summers!" the girl in a shiny dress screeched. "She'll figure out a way to save us! She was supposed to be here and - as much as it kills me to say it - things were better when she was around!"

"Buffy?" Harris sounded surprised. "The Slayer?"

"No, Buffy the Dog Faced Girl!" the girl snapped. "Duh! Who do you think I'm talking about?

Spike pricked up his ears. The Slayer? Spike hasn't met one for twenty-two years. Hopefully this new one was a good dancer...

"Bored now," Rosenberg snickered. "This is the part that's less fun, when there isn't any screaming." She grinned and licked Harris' cheek.

He nuzzled her. "Not that I don't appreciate your appetite, Will... But I thought we agreed it was my turn- "

The girl in a shiny dress was aghast. "No. No way! I wished us into bizarro land and you guys are still together?"

Spike grinned. That was funny - but it wasn't fair that Harris was getting all the fun. Spike strolled up to them and winked at the girl. "I can bet, luv, that they won't stay together even for a century. Trust me, I know about relationships."

"Spike," the girl said, confused. "Did you bang Xander's head with a microscope in this dimension, too? 'Cause that could explain..."

Okay, that sounded weird. Even for Sunnydale.

But, of course, Spike couldn't miss such a great opportunity to annoy Harris. The boy was such a cute and easy target. "Not yet - but I like the idea about banging. Although I wouldn't call my tool a microscope... What's your name, pet?"

"You don't remember me? But of course, you don't. I'm Cordelia. Cordelia Chase."

Spike gave the girl an appreciative glance. "You look smashing, Luv."

She automatically flashed a megawatt smile that made the pretty pendant on her neck sparkle. Or maybe it was a hallucination. Spike blinked, trying to remember how much he had been drinking. Then he resolutely tore the pendant off Cordelia's neck and pocketed it. "Dru might love your trinket..."

Willow Rosenberg snickered. "Your nutso girlfriend is still alive? Hard to believe."

It took Spike a lot of effort not to snap her neck. "Her cure is hidden somewhere in Sunnydale and I came here to find it," he said through gritted teeth.

"You shouldn't come here, Spike," Harris said darkly.

"Like hell I shouldn't! I won't leave until I find a cure for Dru!"

"The Master has forbidden you from coming here."

"Bloody hell! Take me to him - I have to talk with the Big Boss of your little zoo."

"Don't you dare mock the Master!" Willow growled.

"Come on, Red - you call this mocking? I didn't even call him an old goat with little shriveled balls..."

Rosenberg charged at Spike, furious, and tried to claw his eyes out. Harris made a half-hearted attempt to stop her, but she pushed him away.

None of them paid attention to the screech of brakes. Only when a van stopped nearby, and a man with a crossbow ordered Cordelia to get in, the three vampires came to their senses. But it was too late. The van melted into the darkness, with the girl inside it.

"We lost her because of you, Spike!" Rosenberg hissed. "Bastard!"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Sure. It's all my fault - I'm so sexy you two always jump my bones and forget about your other toys!"

Harris looked at him darkly. "Spike - I do hope you'll meet The Slayer."

"Or, rather, the sharp end of her stake," Willow added.

Spike sighed. Why did people always blame him for everything? He had just come here to help Dru. The Master has to appreciate it - the old bugger always cared about family values. And Darla, as bitchy as she has always been, had a lot of fondness for Dru - especially when the latter had been inventing new ingenious methods of mayhem and torture...

Yet Darla was far from happy when Spike entered the Master's lair, escorted by Xander and Willow. Spike could smell anger and frustration coming from her in waves.

"Why have you brought this scoundrel here?" she asked with disgust.

"I'm glad to see you too, great-granny." Spike sneered. "After all, I'm not a stranger - I'm family!"

"You're worse than a stranger, Spike," the Master screeched, appearing from the shadows. "Go away to wherever you came from or else I'll put you in the prison cage next to Angelus!"

"You keep Pathetic Poof in a cage? Why? Because he hadn't satisfied the appetite of your mutual girlfriend? Or, on the contrary, had satisfied her too well? He's quite talented..."

Darla backhanded him furiously and he fell into the corner, roaring with laughter.

"One more word - and I sprinkle you with holy water!"

"I appreciate your love for sadomasochistic tricks, dear great-grandmum." Spike leered. "That's why Peaches is in the cage? Or what?"

"He's still possessed with a soul," she admitted reluctantly.

"I see," Spike nodded. "Feeding on rats and helping the losers is truly an incurable case. And, talking about cures and medicine - I know for sure that the cure for Drusilla's ailment is located here. So," he smiled disarmingly. "I came for your help."

The Master grabbed Spike by his throat and slammed him against the wall.

"This is my final warning, Spike," he hissed. "The last time you came here your drunken antics wrecked our celebration of the Night of Saint Vigeous. You dusted The Annointed One, your damned car ruined the factory gates..."

"It was an accident..."

"Shut up and listen! This is my city. You don't belong here. Nobody's gonna help you with your crazy ideas. I'm opening the Factory tomorrow and I don't want you to ruin everything - again!"

"But it's about family..." Spike croaked.

"Exactly. You're not dust only because you're family. To my deepest shame and regret."

The Master hurled Spike out of the room and spat in his direction.

"Harris, make sure he has left and lock the main entrance," he said.

"Bloody hell! Sun's up in a few minutes!" Spike cried indignantly. "You can't throw me out like this..." But the Master has already slammed the door in his face. "Bugger."

Thankfully, Xander Harris had owed him a couple of bucks ever since they'd celebrated the Night of Saint Vigeous with a bottle of single malt scotch, during Spike's last visit. Now, he insisted on returning the debt. The boy was too scrupulous for a vampire. Or maybe he was just in the mood to talk. He led Spike to his lair and they spent the day drinking and debating the finer philosophical points of life, such as if an insane sadistic girlfriend who talked to stars and dolls was worse than a perfectly sane sadistic girlfriend, like Willow Rosenberg, who spent days with her new puppy, poking him with cigarette butts and sharp objects. Spike vaguely remembered that after the fifth bottle of bourbon they had had a little brawl and after the sixth one they somehow cross-switched their opinions - but the rest was lost in a pleasant drunken stupor.

When he woke up, he was alone, sore and hung over. All the bottles were empty, except one, where he found a paltry half-swig of bourbon. How nice of Harris to tease him with a few drops of his only salvation... Cursing, Spike rose and staggered out of the lair in search of a new bottle of bourbon.

After some meandering, the empty bottle still in his hand, he found himself in the main area of the Factory where the Master's minions were finishing work on the blood-processing plant.

"Guys," Spike moaned. "My kingdom for a swig of bourbon!"

''Piss off, Spike," one minion snarled.

"The Master has strictly forbidden us from giving you any treats," the second minion added.

"Old wanker," Spike grumbled. "He'll regret it..."

The rest was a matter of improvisation. Spike even didn't know why his hands pulled the cork out of the bottle and drove it into some tailpipe-looking hole in the processing plant.

He looked around. The minions hadn't noticed his evil little deed.

"Hey, mate", he asked the minion. "Does this thing run on electricity?"

"Nope, gasoline. Thank Devil we managed to convince the Master that manual pumps are a bit outdated..."

Spike left the main area in an upbeat mood. If only he could come up with one more nasty trick on the Master, his night would be made completely.

Whistling the tune to 'My Way', he loitered about the factory until he found Angel. Locked in a cage, chained, beaten and bleeding, but in one piece. It was definitely Spike's day.

"Angelus!" Spike chuckled. "Your perverse threesome games with Darla and the Master have reached a new level of ingenuity!"

The Great Ponce winced. "Spike? What are you... um, yes. They've forgotten about me during their frolics... Unchain me - I'm tired of sitting here."

This could turn out even more interesting that he anticipated. Spike propped up the wall with his shoulder and put his hands into pockets. "So... you and Darla and the Master. What about your soul, Peaches? Doesn't your shiny immortal soul protest against sharing your woman with an old ugly bugger?"

Angel glared at Spike and turned away. Spike sighed. The idiot was suicidal. Again. It was no fun at all.

"Hey, Peaches!"

"What do you want, Spike? Go away".

"Maybe I want to save you," Spike said, smiling sweetly. "Maybe I decided to play for the good guys team. Maybe I want to save puppies and help damsels in distress".

"Moron."

"Seriously. Dru is sick and the cure is here, in Sunnyhell. I need help and all Mr. Skin-and-Skeleton cares about is his sodding factory. He doesn't give a piss about family".

Angel nodded, wincing. "The Master wants to keep up with the times - hence trail-blazing century-old technology. Listen, Spike." Angel looked him in the eye. "I won't lie that I know about the cure for Dru. But I promise to help if you let me out."

The pillock was such an easy mark. Spike made a skeptical face. "Swear that you won't try to dust me."

Angel sighed. "I swear."

"Swear to treat me with respect and to reply "yes, sir" when I talk to you."

"Screw you, Spike!"

"Don't get excited. Just kidding. Swear that you won't be listening Barry Manilow in my presence."

"Okay", Angel sighed. "And Spike... could you abstain from the Ramones for a while?"

Spike grunted something unintelligible as he kicked the door. The lock cracked with a screech. Spike swaggered into the cage and winced as he saw Angel's wounds up close.

"Darla decorated you with sinisterly attractive burns."

"Not her." Angel groaned painfully. "It's Willow... the Master's new pet... worthy of his notice..."

"Oh - that girl is quite talented." With an effort Spike broke Angel's handcuffs. "By the way, she tried to jump my bones yesterday. If I wasn't in love with Dru..."

"Oh, sure. I'd forgotten that Dru is your destiny," Angel grumbled, rubbing his wrists.

Spike bristled. "Yes, she's my destiny! There is no woman more beautiful than Dru!"

"Buffy..." Angel whispered, looking behind him. "Buffy Summers..."

Spike whirled around. A blonde girl was standing at the entrance of the cage. She looked yummy and smelt of power and curiosity. Buffy Summers? The name sounded familiar...

"You know my name?" she asked Angel suspiciously.

"I waited. I waited here for you. But you never... I was supposed to help you. I kept hoping - maybe you'd come. My destiny."

The girl frowned. "Is this a "get in my pants" thing? You Sunnydale guys all talk like I'm the second coming."

Spike giggled involuntarily. "Peaches has always been the drama queen. Don't get excited, pet - I don't give a piss about you."

Buffy Summers looked at him with open hostility. "Mutual. I'm looking for the Master."

Spike leered. "The old bugger? You're quite a perv. A little tip, pet: don't bother him today. He'll be mightily pissed off after his precious opening ceremony is ruined..." Suddenly it struck him. "Peaches, are you sure that this destiny chick wouldn't tattle on us to the old bugger? Because I'm not in the mood to snap her pretty neck."

"Tattle about what?" Buffy Summers asked impatiently. Apparently, Spike's promise to snap her neck hasn't scared her in the least. Weird chick.

"Peaches, who's this bird and what she's doing here?"

"Buffy Summers is the Slayer," Angel said gloomily. "The Powers That Be sent me to Sunnydale to help her. I waited here for her arrival..."

But of course! That girl in the shiny dress, Cordelia - she was talking about the Slayer named Buffy Summers! Spike looked at her with a renewed interest. "Has been a long time since I met a Slayer".

She rolled her eyes. "Great - another "get in my pants" thing. Could you just explain why the ceremony will be ruined?"

Spike gave her a conspiratorial wink. "Because their buggering processing plant will blow up as soon as it starts working".

"Why?"

"The engine works on gasoline and I corked up the exhaust".

"Oh," Buffy Summers said vaguely. Obviously engineering stuff was way beyond her grasp.

Angel slowly rose to his feet, staggering. Bastard looked worse for wear - but his sorry state didn't prevent him from criticizing Spike's actions. "Are you sure you corked up the right pipe?"

Spike leered. "Wanna check it?"

"Of course we have to check," Buffy Summers said with authority. "If your plan fails, the Master will kill all those people within the next few hours."

Spike didn't even have time to get surprised that his little prank had been promoted to the status of 'plan'.

"Show us the way." Angel said.

Bossy idiot. Spike rolled his eyes. "Are you crazy? You're hardly standing on your feet! Want to end up behind bars again?"

"Spike..."

"Come to think of it, chains and handcuffs go with brooding so well..."

"Spike..."

"I can call Rosenberg and ask her to bring more candles and cigarettes..."

Buffy Summers grabbed him and pinned against a wall. "Where is the plant?"

Damn, the girl was really strong. He tried to break free, but she twisted his arm in a vicious grip. He could feel her hot breath as she whispered in his ear, "If you don't do what I say, I swear I'll feed you your own testicles..."

Spike looked at her with appraisal - the girl was quite ingenious in her torture methods. Unfortunately, her next threat was drowned in the thunder of an explosion. The dust from the ceiling made Buffy Summers sneeze loudly, but she still held Spike in her iron grip. Apparently, she liked it.

He grinned triumphantly. "You still want to check the plant, Slayer?"

She slammed him against the wall one more time and let him go. She was breathing hard, and he could smell her anger and arousal. He hoped the scent was strong enough to cover the smell of his own excitement - but a look at Angel's face proved it wasn't.

It was one of the worst days in the career of Rupert Giles.

The day had started with a late night-cum-early morning patrol during which he saved Cordelia Chase from a group of vampires. Within the next hour he was forced to listen to her complaints about everything in Sunnydale, especially men, clothes and shoes. On top of it all, Cordelia announced that all the misfortunes and catastrophes in Sunnydale happened because of the absence of the Slayer Buffy Summers.

Theoretically, her absurd claim could have been a result of the shock. But the current Slayer's name really was Buffy Summers - therefore, Cordelia could be telling the truth. Theoretically.

There was only one way to check her crazy theory. Giles called the Cleveland affiliation of the Watcher's Council, listened patiently to all the bile Travers has accumulated since their last conversation and then asked to assign Buffy Summers to Sunnydale for a few days.

Surprisingly, Travers agreed.

The Slayer arrived in Sunnydale in record-breaking time, but her presence hadn't improved the situation by one iota. Instead of helping Giles in solving the mystery of the parallel universe, Buffy traded a couple of barbs with Cordelia and set off for a suicide mission at the Factory, leaving Giles with pissed off Cordelia, who switched to criticizing Giles' modus operandi.

"Why do you let that bitch boss you around? Aren't you a Watcher? What are you doing in Sunnydale if the Council and the Slayer live and work in Cleveland? Warming the bench?"

Giles glared at Cordelia, but his glare didn't impress her at all.

"The Council sent me here two years ago," he said, resigned. "A number of manuscripts indicate that an important event will take place here soon. I must witness the phenomenon."

"Phenomenon?"

He brightened, despite himself. "I'm not absolutely positive about the details of the translation, but the gist is that three true champions will be reunited in Sunnydale at the brink of the new millenium."

"Three champions?" Cordelia perked up. "You have championships here? What kind of championships? Baseball? Basketball? Damn, I so need a new dress and a pair of decent shoes..."

Giles coughed. "Ms. Chase, I'm afraid you didn't understand. Champions as in "fighters for a noble cause".

Cordelia looked deeply disappointed. "Oh, those types... They're usually arrogant, holier-than-thou and incredibly boring..."

The library door opened with a bang. Buffy crossed the threshold followed by two strangers.

"Come in, guys", she said, throwing her crossbow into the corner. "The bookworm is Rupert Giles, the vampire bait is Cordelia. So, Giles - have you found anything useful about the Master in your books?"

"Not yet," Giles murmured. "Buffy, may I ask you who these two... gentlemen are?"

"Angel and Spike, the two most ruthless vampires in history," Cordelia said quickly. "At least that's what they are in my universe".

Buffy Summers gave her companions an apologetic glance.

"She came from a wrong alternative universe," she explained to them. "Relax, Cordelia - in this universe they are good guys who fight against vampires".

The taller stranger, Angel, coughed discreetly. The shorter one, Spike, smirked.

"Miss Alternative Universe is totally right. At least about me. Yes, I am the most ruthless vampire in the history of mankind. Actually, Peaches used to ascribe that title to himself, but for the last hundred years he hasn't liked to boast about his earlier feats..."

"Shut up, Spike" Angel growled.

"See? He's so modest he makes me cry..."

Giles stared at them, mesmerized and horrified. He recognized them as soon as Cordelia mentioned their names. The old daguerreotypes he had seen years ago in the Academy perfectly reflected Angelus' broody scowl and William the Bloody's maniacal glee. Giles slowly stepped back, trying to shield Cordelia, snatched the unloaded crossbow from the table and blindly patted the surface for arrows.

"We came to help you," Angel murmured, looking daggers at Spike.

"No, it's you who came to help them," Spike countered. "I came to find the cure for Drusilla".

"We must help people first."

"The hell we do! You're a bloody hero, Batman 2.0 - you'd work for them for a tube of hair gel! And then they'll dust you instead of saying 'thanks'. Just look at this maniac with the crossbow - he'll be hating your guts no matter what you do."

"Mr. Giles, would you mind putting down your crossbow?" Angel said. "Apparently, it makes Spike nervous."

Giles blinked.

"Buffy - could you explain?.."

She rolled her eyes. "Relax, Giles, they're our allies. These guys also have a grudge against the Master. Together we have better chances against him."

"But it's unprecedented! Don't you realise the risk you're exposing all of us to?"

"Don't sweat," Buffy said smugly. "I can do both of them".

"I bet you'll like it, baby!" Off her glare Spike stuck out his tongue at everyone present. Then he dropped into the chair Giles had occupied a few minutes ago and put his feet on Watcher's table. "You're incredibly lucky you've met me. I'm the Master's direct descendant and his best friend. I can easily enter his lair. You know, I always dreamed about dusting the wanker but couldn't find an appropriate occasion."

"What about his minions?" Buffy asked.

"Pfft, minions! As soon as he's dust in the wind, Darla and Willow will immediately start clawing each other's eyes out. And the rest will run away".

"We don't need them to run away", Giles said. "We need them dusted".

"Whatever. The little details are up to you."

"The worst plan I ever heard," Angel said glumly. "The Master hates you. Do you really think he'll allow you to get closer than ten feet to him?"

"He'll get close himself when I start telling him about the ways his precious Darla satisfies her sexual appetites."

Angel snorted. "You think you know what you're talking about".

"But you'll enlighten me, won't you? In the interests of our mission. Don't tell me you don't want to poke the old bugger with a stake."

"You can't bring a stake into his quarters," Giles said. "They search everybody who visits the Master".

"I'll put the stake into my jeans." Spike smirked. "Both Harris and Rosenberg have already tried to slip their prying, grabby hands into my pants so they know that there is a big fat stake in there!"

Giles blinked. The situation was quickly becoming more and more surreal. "Spare me the details."

"Hey, Watcher, you asked, I answered. Now, what I need in return is some information. You've got a good library here..."

"I'm not going to help vampires," Giles said flatly. "I can't be sure you're not planning anything evil."

"Come on, Watcher! I just need to find a cure for my girlfriend!"

"It's true", Angel said. "Spike and planning are unmixy. I'll watch him to make sure he doesn't do anything nasty".

Giles cast him a doubtful glance.

"Who'll watch you, Angel?"

Cordelia raised her hand.

"Actually... in my universe Angel is a good guy. He has a soul. Do you have a soul here?"

Angel nodded without raising his eyes.

"Could we check it?" Cordelia inquired. "Make some tests? Blood samples? Anything?"

Buffy glared at her.

"Master was keeping Angel in a cage and his minions tortured him!" she said. "You need more proof?"

"There is a very good method of telling a souled Peaches from an unsouled one," Spike declared. "Our souled Peaches is always broody and morose. If you see a smile on his face, beware - he might lose his soul! But, as long as he's all gloomy and sullen, you're safe. Now, Watcher use your library to find me either a Russelheim compendium..."

Giles shook his head. "The only existing copy is kept in the Watcher's Council's Headquarters".

''Then find me Laforgue's Codex".

Giles shrugged.

"As far as I know the last copy was lost about half a century ago".

"Bloody hell! Well, if you haven't really good stuff, just give me a collection of Du Lac's rituals".

Angel chose a strategic position at the door so that he could always keep Spike in his sight. While Giles was rummaging through his books, Angel watched his childe going through Giles's desk. Angel could smell his frustration and impatience and something else - curiosity? interest? pain?

"Where did you leave Dru?"

"She liked LA", Spike replied absent-mindedly. "Archduke Sebassis agreed to give her shelter for a while. Dru had predicted that his fate will be closely related to the one of the Aurelian vampires. He was touched."

"I bet".

Spike snorted. "Then she told me that the pixies promised her Sebassis' death from an Aurelian's hand. Thank God she was lucid enough to keep that tidbit between her and me. I swore to her I didn't plan to kill Sebassis but she only smiled and sang lullabies to Miss Edith..." Spike finished rummaging through Giles' drawers and stamped his foot in frustration. "I could swear that the Watcher had a bottle of brandy stashed here and was taking swigs pretty regularly." He frowned, thinking hard. "What if I drank from him? His blood has enough alcohol to freshen the nip..."

Angel frowned.

"Spike I believe we've got an agreement..."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, princess! I'd just take a couple of swigs. I need him to translate Du Lac's rituals."

"Spike!"

"Okay, okay, I just have to find that damn bottle..."

Giles delicately coughed behind his back.

"Sorry to disappoint, Spike - but I finished the last one just before your arrival and right now my alcohol resources are zero. That's Bad News Number One. Bad News Number Two is that the Du Lac rituals are coded."

Spike glanced at the page full of cryptic signs and shifted impatiently. "How much time do you need to decode them?"

"The book is said to contain rituals and spells that reap unspeakable evil. I can't do it without the key. Ancient sorcerers often coded secret messages with unusually-shaped objects with holes inside them. To decode you should read only the letters in the holes. Without the key it's gibberish".

Spike rolled his eyes.

"To sum it up, you all are absolutely useless wankers. I was ready to renounce all my principles... actually, I don't have principles, but that's another matter. And what do I get in return? Neither bourbon nor medicine for Dru."

Spike gave them a mock salute and made his way to the door. "See you in another half-a-century, Peaches."

Angel watched him go with the mix of regret and relief. Of course, Spike was the only one of them who could find a way to get to the Master - but Spike's departure would make his life much more easy and pleasant.

But, obviously, Buffy had another opinion. "Where are you going, Spike?"

"Luv, I'm sorry to leave you in such a boring company, but my Drusilla is waiting for me. When you'll be dusting the Old Goat with Shriveled Privates, send him my regards. Hopefully he'll appreciate it... What?"

Buffy blocked the entrance and looked at him challengingly.

"You won't go anywhere until the Master is dust".

Spike smirked. "Baby, don't make me hurt you, because I'm hardly in the mood..."

Buffy clocked him in the nose and before he could regain his composure, she punched him again in the stomach.

"Giles, can we lock your cage?" she asked, nodding towards bars in the corner.

Giles blinked perplexedly. "Actually, it's not a cage - it's a repository for the most important and valuable books I keep in the library. I doubt it's wise to..."

"Give me the lock!" Before Spike could react, Buffy hurled him into the cage and locked the door.

"Oh, poor Dru!" she exclaimed gleefully. "She misses her little blonde Spikey so much! How could you make your girl suffer, you naughty creature of the night! Your poor, poor princess... maybe she'll become the arch-duchess by the time you find her!"

Spike roared with frustration and charged the bars with such force that the door of the cage almost came off the hinges. Buffy raised her stake defiantly and Giles started to load the crossbow with trembling hands.

Angel sighed. Instead of becoming easier, his life was quickly becoming more and more complicated.

"Spike, stop it," he said. "Buffy could we have a couple of words in private?"

Buffy snorted but followed him into the empty corridor.

"What?" she said impatiently when they reached the corner.

"It's no use locking up Spike. I know him very well. He's my childe".

Buffy raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"I'm his sire. Actually, I'm his grand-sire, because I sired Drusilla and she sired Spike, but that's irrelevant. What I want to say is that we spent more than twenty years together. And I know Spike very well. We had our share of quarrels and brawls. Spike is as stubborn as a mule. You can bend him but you can't break the bastard".

Buffy glared. "Really? Because I have a plan. Take a kettle-ful of holy water. Unzip Spike's pants. Get the idea or do I need to spell it out to you?"

Angel sighed. Not that he couldn't relate to her frustrations - but the girl's acute interest in Spike's genitals was disturbing.

Giles' heart-wrenching screams spared them from further debates on the delicate subject.

"This scoundrel wants to burn my books!" Giles shouted. "It's the 'Codex of Cryptic Signs and Symbols'. First edition! It's priceless! It gets clues and tips to the most important mysteries of the universe".

"That's fantastic!" Spike clicked his lighter and tore off a page of the book. "Let us see which mysteries will stay unsolved till the end of the world..." Spike laughed as the flames started licking the bottom of the page. "The spirit of Krivoklat castle, the gold of Templieres, the code of Du Lac..."

"What?" Giles said, bewildered.

"What?" Spike echoed. "Bleeding bloody hell!" He dropped the page and stomped on it furiously.

Buffy giggled, watching his grotesque dance macabre. Spike glared at her and picked up the slightly charred sheet. "It says that Du Lac's rituals can be decoded with the cross of Du Lac," he said through clenched teeth. "The cross is hidden in his crypt on the Field of Rest at the entrance to the Mouth of Hell."

"Thank you, Spike," Giles said mildly. "I think The Field of Rest implies Restfield Cemetery, two blocks from here."

Spike smirked. "The book also says the rituals will be decoded by a Watcher who'll die a painful death before the end of the millennium and won't be able to find out that "Manchester United" won the Champions League."

"I appreciate your sparkling humor, Spike, but I'm a fan of Arsenal," Giles replied coldly. "Anyway, thanks for the idea".

"What idea?" Spike asked suspiciously.

"The idea for keeping us safe from you".

"Huh?"

Giles brought several candles, a jar with some magic stuff and an old book. "The Pasificarre Spell is fine. It is relatively simple, it will prevent you from harming humans. But you'll still be able to harm demons so you can find consolation in dusting the Master."

"Don't you dare, Watcher..." Spike growled. "Angel? You'd let this bastard steal my demon essence?"

"I think it's the best decision in the current situation," Angel murmured gloomily. "Because I don't want to dust you, Spike".

"And I want to dust him!" Buffy pouted. "Giles, promise to give him back his demon essence after we finish the Master - I want to have a big fat reason to dust this jerk".

Spike bared his fangs.

"Slayer, I have already slayed two of your kind, but your neck will be the most precious prize in my Slayer collection!"

Ignoring them, Giles lit the candles. "To be honest, I'd feel much safer if you underwent the same spell," he told Angel. "But I need somebody to control these two. Without you they'd be at each other's throats in no time at all."

Angel nodded. He desperately needed a swig of good Irish whiskey.

Angel felt almost happy. Every punch and every kick made him feel less cranky. Every dusted fledge made their bourbon expedition fiasco less frustrating.

Of course, if he'd set out to Du Lac's crypt alone, he could easily have made a small detour and slipped through the back door of Willy's bar unnoticed. But Giles insisted that he should take Spike with him and Angel could hardly blame him.

Poor Watcher. As soon as his spell took Spike's ability to cause physical pain to humans, the bastard switched to moral torture. Soon everybody in the library was aware of Arsenal's awful strategy in the current season and the team's hopeless position on European football charts. When Angel saw that Giles was close to a stroke, he reluctantly agreed to take Spike to search the crypt of Du Lac, and Buffy immediately expressed her desire to accompany them - because, you know, somebody had to keep an eye on those two vampire defectors.

Keeping an eye turned into another piss-off contest. Football rants gave place to mutual menaces full of vague sexual innuendos. Buffy was gleefully explaining to Spike that if she were Drusilla, she'd have ditched Spike many years ago, while Spike was promising to make the Slayer's neck his personal chalice which he'd drink deep as soon as Giles - that miserable fan of the most lacklustre football team in the world - caved in under Spike's football tortures and gave him back his glorious vampire essence.

They were close to Willy's bar when their noisy bickering attracted the attention of a group of vampires. Angel immediately realized the unpleasant consequences of the encounter: if the Master found out that Spike was socializing with Angel and the Slayer, he'd never let Spike approach him anymore. Obviously Buffy figured it out too.

"Ten of them - three of us", she whispered. "We get scared and run away. They follow us. We lead them away to the cemetery and dust them there."

"What?" Spike bristled. "Run away from these pillocks?"

"You want them to tattle to the Master about seeing you with us?"

Spike growled but complied. He made an attempt to retreat with dignity, facing the enemy so that it looked like he was covering Angel and Buffy's escape - but he tripped, almost fell and, cursing, ran away after them.

Buffy's plan worked - the Master's minions rushed after the Slayer and her companions. Angel knew Sunnydale well enough to lead them to the nearest cemetery where the trio got the perfect opportunity to vent off their frustrations on the vampires who had the misfortune to get in their way.

Dusting the next fledge, Angel suddenly realized that Buffy has already finished off her opponents and was listening worriedly to the sounds of punches behind the crypt where Spike was fighting two or three vampires at once.

"Maybe we should help him? Not that I care - but if they dust him, we say goodbye to our plans..."

Angel smiled.

"Don't worry, he's just playing. He could easily dust them if he wanted to. But he needs to pour out his aggression. Maybe he'll be quieter for a while after that. I really need a break from his antics."

"He can get rid of the aggression in a fight?" Buffy sighed. "Lucky bastard! When I'm fighting I'm only getting worked up."

She looked at Angel appreciatively.

He caught her glance, felt a sudden rush of blood in his loins and tried to hide his embarrassment. "You may be right", he murmured, twiddling his stake nervously. "We should help this moron..."

He hadn't ended the phrase as Buffy's hungry lips were upon his mouth. "He'll deal", she breathed between kisses. "He's okay".

Angel involuntarily moaned with pleasure as her tongue started exploring his mouth. His reaction stirred her up - she jumped on him, enveloping him in her smell. My destiny, he thought, giddy with sudden rapture. My destiny...

"The crypt", she whispered, clinging to him possessively. "Check the door..."

The crypt was comfy and empty. Well, marginally comfy and almost empty. Some critters in the corner - either rats or demons of small variety - gave frightened squeaks and rushed into the creak under the sarcophagus at the sight of a weird beast with two backs. Angel tried to disengage from Buffy's embraces, but she flung him onto the sarcophagus and jumped on him. He felt her hot hands unzipping his pants and acute desire eclipsed all rational thoughts. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the sweet intoxication of this girl who smelled of fights, desperation and insatiable lust for life...

...To protect, to worship, to help, Angel thought as he was hugging sated and utterly spent Buffy, caressing her small perky breasts. To be hers completely, without restraints, to love her with all his soul - isn't it the greatest bliss imaginable? the ultimate pure and unadulterated happ...

Loud, insistent banging on the door interrupted his train of thoughts.

"Hey, Peaches! I love the smell of a thoroughly shagged out vampire in the morning!"

The moment of pure and unadulterated happiness was irrevocably lost. A dozen of the most intricate Irish curses flashed in Angel's mind as he jumped on one foot, shoving his other leg into his pants, as Spike swaggered into the crypt with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"You're a pig, Spike!" Buffy murmured, zipping her jeans.

"If I'm a pig, you're the dirt I'd love to wallow in." Spike waggled his tongue lasciviously. "So - have you found the cross?"

Buffy glared. "Have those vampires beaten the last remains of your brain out of your thick skull? The cross is hidden in Du Lac's crypt..."

"Has Peaches screwed the last remains of your brains out of your cute ass, Slayer?" Spike sneered. "This is Du Lac's crypt. And I thought it was the usual slayer way - to combine business with pleasure..."

Angel turned away and started exploring the crypt's wall. No way was he letting Spike push his buttons. He, Angel, was sane enough to ignore those heated debates behind his back - debates about vampires' ability to think with their penises, about slayers who love to jump undead bones, and that being a bloodsucker must suck. Somebody had to keep his head clear.  
Thankfully, he quickly discovered a panel in the wall, and behind it - a big silver crucifix peppered with small holes.

"If you finished with your insults, we should go back. I think that's what we need".

"Let the Watcher figure it out," Spike grumbled. "If that's not the cross we need, he can come here himself to look for the right one. And take the Slayer with him - after all, Englishmen need to shag from time to time too... ouch!"

Buffy rubbed her knuckles.

"Is he always such a pig?" she asked Angel.

"Worse", he replied tersely.

"Oh. That might be my beneficial influence".

Next: Part 2. In which our intrepid hero outsmarts the Master, gets a taste of Buffy and acquires a soul. 


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2. In which our intrepid hero outsmarts the Master, gets a taste of Buffy and acquires a soul.

"I hope you're kidding," Giles said with a wretched smile.

Cordelia's story sounded very weird from the very beginning. A demon who grants wishes, has created this whole universe? And in an alternate dimension Buffy Summers lived in Sunnydale? And he was...

"I'm absolutely serious!" Cordelia exclaimed. "In my universe you're Buffy's Watcher."

"And I'm still alive and sane and haven't ended up on a funny farm?"

Cordelia smiled magnanimously.

"You're still alive and sane, you drink considerably less and you don't wear that awful sweater. Our world is totally different. For one thing, Angel wore leather pants and eyeliner for a while."

Off Giles' look, she shrugged. "Yeah, I was also amazed that he got that liner perfectly straight. I mean, even I need a mirror."

Giles cleared his throat, a bit put off at the whole idea. "There was no reason he started dressing like Alice Cooper?"

"Well, duh. He went evil, of course. Everywhere I went, I was worried he could jump out at me. You can't believe the worry lines I developed. I had to redo my whole facial routine to make sure there was no permanent damage."

"So, Angel developed a fixation with you?" Giles was more and more confused by the second. He wondered if anyone would notice if he had a small nip - he had a secret stash even Spike couldn't smell.

"Not exactly," Cordelia allowed. "More like a general fixation with killing, torture and the entire script of Blair Witch."

"Good lord. But I thought you said he was a souled vampire in your dimension and was on the side of good."

"He was. Is. But he did the horizontal tango with Buffy and that wrenched his soul loose. Goodbye Sartre, hello Hannibal Lecter."

"You know who Sartre was?" Giles said, impressed.

She snorted. "Why does everyone say that? I did very well on my SATs."

Giles shrugged.

"Tell me more about such weird interdependence..."

"Interdependence?"

Giles looked away. "Angel sleeping with Buffy and losing his soul."

"It's not an interdependence, it's a Gypsy curse", Cordelia explained. "You know, you, Europeans, are so foolish and egotistical. Can you imagine such stupidity? As soon as sexy yummy guy sleeps with the girl he loves, he turns into a beast, tortures you, kills the woman you love..."

She cut herself short. Giles looked at her perplexedly. Apparently, the girl was hiding something.

"In your world Buffy had a woman she loved? She is bisexual there?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes.

"Giles, when I said "you" I meant... well... you. Personally".

Giles felt shivers running down his spine. "Angel tortured me? He killed my... Who was she?"

"Our computer teacher. Her name was Jenny Calendar. Does she exist in your universe?"

Giles shook his head.

"I don't know her. Hopefully she never arrived in Sunnydale. Or..."

"Or was killed before you met her".

"But in your world it was Angel who did it?"

"Angelus", Cordelia elaborated. "Soulless Angel calls himself Angelus. That's why I asked Angel if we could check the presence of his soul. Souled Angel is the most trustworthy guy on Earth."

"But if he sleeps with Buffy Summers?.."

"Exactly," Cordelia shuddered. "Giles, we have to warn them!"

Giles sighed. He couldn't just tell them "Don't have sex, because the consequences will be horrific!" Such warnings usually have the opposite effect.

"I know what we'll do!" Cordelia exclaimed. "We'll tell them that vampire/Slayer sex causes... for example, spontaneous combustion. Or, say, syphilis. Do vampires have syphilis?"

Giles thought it over.

"This occurrence has never been mentioned in the manuscripts I know, and I read the majority of the volumes in the Council's library..."

"That's great! If even you don't know anything about it, vampires don't have a clue either! I mean - they couldn't test it practically, could they?"

Giles averted his eyes.

"Actually... theoretically - only theoretically! - the opposites gravitate to each other..."

"But it's only theoretically."

"Well, it's a complicated matter." Giles felt he was blushing. "Some reports indicate that this theory may have been corroborated empirically..."

Cordelia looked exasperated.

"I haven't the least idea what you're talking about but, judging by your tone, you mean vampires had sex with Slayers in the past. And vampires may know that it doesn't result either in syphilis or in combustion."

Giles nodded morosely.

"What a pity! It was such a good idea. So, how do we warn them?"

"Warn about what?"

Giles turned around and saw Angel entering the library. He was smiling, although Buffy and Spike were in their usual fighting mood. "Slayer, if I can't kill you it doesn't mean I won't ask Dru to twist your neck and pour me a cup of your smoking-hot blood..." - "Oh, Spike, I'm so afraid! I'm gonna faint! I'm gonna fall into your lustful vampire arms and put my poor Slayer neck under your lecherous vampire fangs..."

Giles sighed. These two hadn't killed each other yet.

"Er... Buffy... we need to talk."

She turned to him - flushed, angry, beautiful.

"Later!" she snapped.

"It's important. More important than your bickering with this bleached wonder".

"That true, Watcher?" Spike enquired. "Because the Slayer thinks I'm the main reason for all tribulations brought down upon humanity!"

Giles gave him no answer as he took Buffy's hand and lead her into his small study in the rear of his library.

"Buffy, there are new circumstances... regarding something you shouldn't do. Not that I think you will do it but... you know, just in case..."

As he was trying to find the right words to explain the circumstances, Cordelia joined them.

"Have you already told her?" she asked.

Giles blushed and shook his head.

"Well, I'm not sure... it's an absolutely improbable concourse of circumstances... Sorry, Buffy, I shouldn't have started this conversation".

The Slayer looked intrigued.

"What circumstances?"

"Forget it, I'm just an old fool who's overreacting to... to..."

Buffy shrugged.

"Whatever".

As Giles was trying to figure out if her reaction was an insult, Cordelia swiftly took the initiative in her hands.

"Buffy, you and Angel can't have sex".

"Cordelia", Giles murmured. "I hoped you could formulate it more delicately..."

"Calling myself an old fool? Not my style".

Buffy snorted. "What about calling yourself a snotty possessive bitch who claims every male who has the misfortune to be within her reach?"

"If Angel sleeps with you he'll lose his soul!" Cordelia snapped.

"Lose his... You think I'm so stupid I believe you?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "It has already happened in my universe. He slept with you and lost his soul. It's a Gypsy curse - his soul couldn't stand infinite happiness."

Buffy frowned.

"So - what? He turned into a zombie with rotten flesh?"

"No, physically he was the same, even cooler. Leather pants and all. But he murdered a lot of people and then tried to end the world, so you had to send him to hell".

Several moments of dead silence were interrupted by Spike sardonic laugh.

"Wow, Cordy, that was inspired! Even I couldn't figure out such an ingenious ploy to keep the Slayer away from Peaches. But you missed the train."

"What?"

"They already did the nasty".

Buffy snorted contemptuously.

"Ever the gentleman, Spike!"

"I am!" he countered. "I could have spoiled your fun, but I was keeping away from the crypt until you both got what you wanted. You even got it twice!"

Buffy blushed.

"I don't believe him!" Cordelia declared. "If he was outside, he couldn't figure out when they... er... what was happening in the crypt!"

Spike smirked.

"Do you know about vampire hearing, baby?" he asked. "Do you know about vampire's smelling sense? I breathed in and swooned. Well, I figure Peaches finally seized a chance! You know, hundred years ago when I did my first Slayer, he was terribly jealous. I promised that next time I'd give him first crack, but it hadn't panned out. He wasn't even there so I had to proceed without him. But this time everything went just fine!"

"What went just fine?" enquired Angel as he entered, smiling. He inspected Spike's leer, Buffy and Cordelia's embarrassment, Giles frown. "What happened?"

"Angel, why are you smiling?" Cordelia asked, visibly upset.

Smile disappeared from Angel's face. Cordelia quickly stepped back and firmly positioned herself behind Buffy's back. "Spike says souled Angel never smiles", she whispered.

"Little correction: souled Angel smiles only after sex with the Slayer", Spike said matter-of-factly.

"Why should we believe you?" Giles asked.

"Only a complete moron won't be smiling after sex with the Slayer".

Buffy blushed furiously and raised her fist.

"Are you serious, Spike?" Cordelia exclaimed scornfully. "Sex with a girl who's all fists and stakes - how pleasant it could be?" She snorted. "I'm sure Slayer sex is highly overrated! Giles, you're an expert on Slayers - tell us if the Slayers really are so good at sex that it sends all men onto cloud nine! "

Giles coughed.

"I... I think we digress", he murmured. "First, we need to make sure Angel still has a soul".

Angel shrugged. "You're alive. It's the best proof".

Giles shook his head.

"He's right", Spike said. "He could enter through the back door - it opens with a single kick. If he was old bad Angelus, we'd be drinking the Slayer together now. You, Cordy, would've been tied up and left for tomorrow. And the wretched fan of Arsenal would have been dead and spared the humiliation of seeing his team on the last position in the championship charts!"

Cordelia sulked.

"You'd drain her today and me tomorrow?" she said indignantly. "What a bizarro world I ended up in!" She thought it over. "If this is a wrong universe, maybe your Gypsy curses are wrong too!"

Spike's eyes sparkled with glee. "Nope, it's the wrong Slayer", he declared. "She couldn't make Peaches infinitely happy! She was just a quick shag and nothing else... Ouch!"

"That's it, Spike! You're so dust!" Buffy clocked him, knocked him off his feet, straddled him and raised her stake.

Spike giggled lasciviously as Angel intervened and dragged the furious Slayer from his ne'er-do-well Childe. Giles wondered idly if the bulge in Spike's jeans was what he thought it was.

"We need him, Buffy," Angel muttered through clenched teeth. "Actually, we have to thank him for saving my soul. I have to admit that I was perilously close to perfect happiness when he burst into the crypt."

Giles looked at him sharply. An idea started forming in his head.

Buffy's eyes glinted mischievously. "Thank you, darling Spikey," she sing-songed. "Cavalry always arrives in time".

"Bloody hell!" Spike looked utterly repulsed by that thought. "You mean it's my fault that Peaches still has a soul?"

"Guys, I think we should start calling him the soul-keeper," Buffy went on, smiling sweetly. "What do you say, Giles? Spike the Soul Keeper sounds very ... Giles! Have you fallen asleep?"

"No." Giles stood up and raised his finger, calling to attention. "I think I know how you can penetrate the Master's den..."

Buffy shrugged.

"Yes, we all know. Spike the Soul Keeper puts a stake in his pants... "

"No - I mean there is a way for the three of you to get close to the Master - a way I haven't thought of beforehand..."

Buffy frowned.

"I don't like your tone of voice, Giles. Is it something nasty?"

"Well, it's a bit... unconventional."

"Time to tie you up, Pet!" Spike declared cheerfully. "Don't look at me like this, Slayer - I know you love bondage".

Buffy glared. "Shove your stake deeper in your pants, moron, it sticks up like... like... Angel, tell him..."

"Things in my pants tend to stick up." Spike smirked. "Oi, Slayer, what are you doing? You like to touch me, eh? Impressive, isn't it?"

To say that Buffy disliked Giles' plan would have been an understatement. She hated it with a fiery passion of a thousand suns. All the way to the Factory she was explaining why the plan sucked and how many innocent people would die because of Giles' reckless decision to entrust their destinies into Spike's grabby dirty hands. Spike regularly added to her frustrations with "Yeah, Slayer, I wanna shag you too" type of comments. By the time they reached the Factory Buffy was seething with rage.

"I'd love to see all this turning into dust!" Furious, she pushed the stake deeper in Spike's pants.

"Ow!"

Angel coughed discreetly.

"Should I remind you that vampires have very good hearing?"

"But Spike's stake..." Buffy shut up as she heard approaching steps from behind the door. Spike pushed her and Angel behind the crates, and a moment later the door opened.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" Willow asked suspiciously.

"Hey, Red, happy to see you too! But I'll be twice as happy to see you without that skanky-ho costume. Care to shed it for me?"

Willow shot him a murderous glance. ''OK, that's it". She turned around to see Xander approaching.

"You really have a death wish, Spike, don't you?" he sighed. "The Master is in a very bad mood today. Do you know that his plant got blown up?.."

"That so?" Spike sounded genuinely surprised. "Poor old bugger. Well, I'm here to cheer him up!"

Willow snickered. "How? By self-dusting?"

"Wrong answer, but you have two more attempts..."

"By sucking his dick," Xander suggested.

"Your oral fixation always fascinates me, Harris..."

Watching them through the cracks in the rates, Buffy tried not to move while Angel was tying her hands. The desire to intervene and to explain to Spike that he was an idiot was so strong that she literally had to bite her tongue. Why did this moron love to make people hate him? Buffy clenched her fists and nodded to Angel. He nodded back and stepped out of the crates, dragging Buffy on a rope around her wrists.

"Or, here you are, Peaches." Spike smirked. "Harris, Red - meet Angelus. Real, natural Angelus. Not a sissy named Angel."

Willow and Xander looked skeptical.

"I succeeded where your precious Master failed." Spike grinned, triumphant. "Our beloved Angelus is with us again. And he - I mean we - want to make peace with the Master by presenting him the bestest gift ever - a natural, beautiful, effulgent Slayer!"

Angel coughed.

"*The* Slayer. Vampire's worst nightmare."

"Whatever. So, guys, lead us to the Master quickly before we change our minds and drain her. She's quite a treat - isn't she, Angelus?"

Angel looked utterly bored.

"I'm here to talk to the Master, not to waste my time on his lackeys".

Spike shrugged.

"You heard him".

"Not so quickly, bleached pest". Willow nodded to Xander. "Search them".

Buffy tensed when Xander was searching her. She tensed even more when he started checking Spike who immediately switched on his disgusting tease mode. Buffy looked at Spike's tongue and her desire to plunge a stake into that well-built body of his became almost unbearable.

"Wow, Harris". Spike grinned, tongue action ahoy. "Do I see a stake in your pants? Come here, boy, I want to fondle your thick manly stake..."

"Shut up, Spike", Xander said with noticeable difficulty.

"Make me".

Xander opened his mouth but couldn't utter a word. Spike pulled him in and gave him a fruity kiss.

"Pity you're on duty, Harris." He sighed - and he sounded sincere. "Oh, by the way, Red - do you like threesomes?"

Buffy couldn't tolerate it anymore. "You're a sick pervert, Spike! Loathsome, revolting creep who thinks with his penis! I swear I'll dust you as soon as I get free!"

"Promises, promises..." Spike sing-songed.

"...But first I'll pour a bottle of holy water into your pants and rip off your abominable tongue, and shove it into your ass, and make you eat it and... ouch!"

Willow backhanded her viciously.

"This bitch is quite inventive", she hissed. "Hopefully the Master will let me have a bit of fun with her."

And, without another word, Willow turned around and went inside, making a sign to the others to follow her. Buffy, fuming, slowly wiped a small trickle of blood under her nose. In a dimly lit corridor Spike snatched a moment to give her two thumbs up. She rolled her eyes.

In the next twenty minutes it took all Buffy's willpower not to repeat her eye-rolling as she listened to Spike's shameless bragging.

"It was just a piece of incredible luck! Could you imagine - I'm sitting at Willy's place and suddenly see two demons who I once met in Calcutta during my hippie period..."

Spike started talking even before they entered the Master's lair. He went on describing the lousy quality of Willy's bourbon, his "sodding punters" who never offer a drink to their buddies and Sunnydale's lousy state of affairs.

"How dare you step into my headquarters?" The Master finally looked up at him, saw Angel, saw the tied-up Buffy and changed his tone. "OK, talk. But any trickery and you'll be regretting it for a very long time."

"I never do anything I'll regret later," Spike declared proudly. "I always plan my actions carefully and think the consequences through. So. I told those demons about Angelus' problem. And it turned out they knew the remedy."

Spike made a dramatic pause during which Buffy finally realized the magnitude of humiliation that awaited her in the next few minutes.

"Sex with the Slayer!" Spike exclaimed happily.

"Sex with the Slayer?" Xander leered.

"Sex with the Slayer?" Willow repeated incredulously.

"Sex with the Slayer?" the Master scowled suspiciously.

"The most effective stuff." Spike was full of maniacal glee. "Combines business with pleasure, works quickly and safely, at the first attempt. Pity I don't have a soul. I'd love to use this medicine to get rid of it!"

"Sex with the Slayer", said Darla, who entered the room unnoticed. "How very convenient, with the Slayer visiting our town".  
Buffy frowned. It wasn't going the way they expected. Willow and Xander weren't leaving the room and they were watching Buffy and Angel closely, while Darla blocked Spike's approach to the Master.

"Methinks little Willy is a big liar", she hissed menacingly. "Why don't I know about this remedy?"

"My friend is into rare books." Spike's face was the epitome of honesty. "He has the first print of K'gribp monograph "The Soul And How To Get Rid Of That Pest". Actually, there is a lot of ways to exterminate that muck. For humans, for example, the most effective way are the professions of executioner or TV producer. Demons need special spells and rituals. But vampire souls are very special. The only way to get rid of them is sex with the Slayer!"

"You're lying, Willy!" Darla declared. "I searched in the best libraries! I went to all sorcerers! I killed dozens of humans and demons who refused to cooperate! And I couldn't find anything even remotely helpful!"

Buffy tensed. The plan was falling apart right in front of her eyes. She openly glared at Spike, who giggled, clearly inspired by the opportunity to get as many people mad as possible.

"Come on, dear great-granny, we all know how painstaking your search was."

"What do you mean?"

"Puh-lease! Don't try to act like you're evil incarnate! You've always been prone to warm and fuzzy feelings towards our old buddy Angelus. You always wanted to have him all for yourself. You were jealous of me and Dru..."

"How dare you..."

"...and, as soon as our poor Angelus got that pesky soul, me and Dru suddenly became too evil for his tastes. From then on he belonged to you completely. Of course, he smelled of dumps and rats' blood - but you didn't have to share your treasure with anybody. You didn't give a damn about family!"

"Spike, stop it" Angel said evenly.

"Why? You've left us! You have no right to order me!"

"He's your grand-sire!" Darla exclaimed. "Angelus - make your whelp shut up!"

"Spike." Angel's tone was deadly cold. "Don't forget why we came here".

Buffy looked at Angel. His face was like stone but she noticed golden sparks in his eyes. It would be a hard task, to get to Spike's nose ahead of Angel...

Spike smirked at Darla.

"Sorry, great-granny. Of course, you did try to find a remedy. I just happened to be more lucky."

"And?" the Master inquired suspiciously. "You found the remedy but forgot to tell us?"

Spike snorted. "Imagine me coming here and telling you that Peaches has to shag the Slayer to get rid of the soul. As usual, Darla calls me a liar, as usual you take her side and poor Angelus stays soul-burdened forever."

Angel gulped.

"And even if you believe me, how would you make Peaches put it into the Slayer if he doesn't want it? He's not particularly good at it even when he wants it..."

"Spike!" Angel roared.

Buffy snuck a glance at Xander and Willow. They were still watching them closely.

Spike shrugged. "OK, long story short I came up with a brilliant plan. As soon as I found out about Slayer's arrival I went to Peaches and pretended that I was ready to help him in exchange for him helping me with Dru. And you know what? He believed me! That sucker Angel was such a moron!" Spike looked at Angel and smiled broadly. "As soon as he was out of the cage he started making plans about helping the helpless. Naturally I mentioned the Slayer and, naturally, he swallowed my bait. He enlisted in her team and all I had to do was to create the appropriate mood. Cemetery, crypt, rats squeaking, whetting up Peaches' appetite..."

Buffy closed her eyes and started counting mentally. One staked Spike, two staked Spikes, three staked Spikes...

"Shut up, moron," Angel muttered ominously.

"Oh, don't get your rose polka-dotted knickers in a twist, Peaches. Darla, sweetie, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but when they did it, the crypt was shaking. And the smell... oh, that smell! Intoxicating. But yours truly kept sang-froid. Honestly, I didn't join them. Although I almost gave in when she... Ow!"

Angel kicked him in the shin.

"Shut. Up." He turned to Master. "I don't want to waste your time on the details. As soon as I was back, me and Spike tied up the Slayer and brought her here".

It's ludicrous, Buffy thought. Nobody would believe it.

"I don't believe him," Darla said to Master. "I think they're planning something. They want to distract you with the Slayer and overthrow your rule at the Factory."

The Master frowned. "Why have you brought the Slayer here?"

Angel and Spike exchanged glances. "It's our proof of loyalty..." Angel started.

"Do you have other souled vampires in your prison?" Spike interrupted. "Because I have a great idea! You should open a rehabilitation center for souled vampires. You could charge a dozen virgins for one exorcised soul..."

"You haven't fed on her," Darla said.

Spike snickered.

"Frankly, I'm full up with them!" He patted his gut proudly. "Don't like to brag... oh, who am I kidding, I love to brag! You all know I bagged two Slayers! And you have to believe me, since I'm the best Slayer expert in the world - there is nothing special about them! Rather the contrary. Wiry bony bitches with insipid rotten blood. Pshaw!"

...Twenty-five staked Spikes, Buffy thought. Twenty-six staked, holy-watered, cock-chopped Spikes...

The Master blinked. Darla narrowed her eyes.

"You've always been a disgusting liar, Willy, but today you overdid yourself."

Spike's laughter was full of contempt.

"Come on, great-granny, have you killed two Slayers recently? You're plain and simply jealous. You've always been jealous. You always hated me because Angelus loved me more than you. You've never forgiven him for that. It's only you who could get away with shagging wankers like the Immortal and the Prince of Lies!"

"Prince of Lies!" Angel exclaimed. "Damn! Thank the devil I dusted that scoundrel!"

"Prince of Lies?" Darla gasped. "You dusted him?"

"Prince of Lies?" the Master hissed ominously.

"But it was so long ago..." she whispered.

"You dared to date the Prince of Lies, you bitch!"

Darla looked at him blindly and rushed out of the room.

"I'm talking to you!" the Master called after her. "Harris, Rosenberg - bring her back! Angelus... okay, I'll keep your Slayer, but I'm strapped for cash. Do you want to become my business partner? My factory..."

He gulped as he saw Angel untying Buffy's hands and Spike drawing a stake out of his pants.

"I never wanted to be a factory owner," Angel said. "You, Spike?"

"Me neither. Pity it isn't a brothel."

The fight was quick and violent. With every punch and kick Buffy was getting rid of that enormous charge of energy accumulated inside her. The Master fought desperately but eventually Angel and Spike pressed him to the wall and Buffy plunged her stake into his heart.

"Angel, go after Darla, find her and slay her," she ordered, dusting her hands. "I'll free the hostages. Spike, you... Spike? Where is he?"

True happiness. Spike achieved it as soon as he opened a bottle of bourbon at Willy's.

What? Unlike some brooding wankers, he could allow himself the luxury of being happy without worrying about nasty consequences, like losing a soul. Or, devil forbid, getting one. Of course, you never know what could happen when you're hanging around that pesky Slayer, who struts about shaking her tits and looking so appetiz... disgusting in her conviction that the world turns around her sodding ass.

People had already started getting the wrong idea about him. Take Willy the Snitch who for some unfathomable reason had the idea that Spike was gonna pay for his drink.

"You're a good guy now." Willy smiled ingratiatingly. "You play for the Slayer's team."

Spike growled softly. "It's not what you think! It's just... an enemy of my enemy is my friend. For a while. Actually, the Slayer is very pissed off at me because I've stolen all her glory..."

The door banged and Buffy entered, a stake in her hand. Spike sighed. The Slayer looked unhappy. Apparently she didn't appreciate Spike's idea of throwing his cigarette into the gasoline tank. Silly girl didn't understand the concept of fun. And the worst thing? He felt unexplainably guilty seeing her unhappy.

What the hell was happening to him? He had to take measures against it. Spike smirked and curled his tongue around his teeth. "Missed me, pet?"

Her face was grim and resolute.

"I knew it was a trick," she declared. "You did it to save your threesome sex buddies."

"What?"

"Harris and Rosenberg. You gave them a chance to escape as we were knocking ourselves out opening the cages."

"See, Willy - I'm still evil!" Spike grinned. "I'm not going to pay you!"

"We barely managed to save the people." Buffy shook her head. "You know, Spike, the sooner I dust you the better."

Spike sighed.

"Bloody hell, Slayer, flex those little cute brain muscles of yours. There were three of us against dozens of the Old Wanker's minions. The only way to even our chances was to spread panic in their ranks. Fire is a vampire's worst enemy. Put two and two together."

Buffy furrowed her brow. She was delectable. Spike licked his lips.

"Wanna a swig of bourbon?"

"Ew." Buffy sighed and reluctantly put her stake back into her waistband. "Okay, maybe your plan wasn't as bad as it seemed at first sight. But several of the Master's minions escaped. And you, instead of cleaning up your mess, are getting drunk!"

"For the devil' sake, Slayer, I was sober for more than 24 hours! It's inhuman - to deprive a hungover vampire of his only salvation! If it were not Willy, I'd have died of sobriety!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I'd pay to see it."

Imperturbed, Spike took a swig. "Besides, I was gathering intelligence. Willy knows everybody and everything in Sunnydale. I came here to find out where the most dangerous vampire nests are."

"Well - where are they?"

Spike looked away. "I was about to ask him about it when you burst in and disrupted my carefully thought-out plan of interrogation". He pointed at Willie. "Now we have to torture him. Usually I'm quite altruistic, but seems like there is no choice..."

Willy blanched. "I'll tell you everything! The band of the brothers Gorch usually hangs in the Bronze!"

Buffy gave him a doubtful look. "How many?"

"Seven, maybe eight fledges. And Lyle. And Tektor".

Buffy did math in her head (she had a cute expression when she was thinking hard) and nodded. "That makes ten. Good. Spike, show the way!"

He rolled his eyes, but his legs followed her to the door. Has Angel accidentally infected him with a rare virus of vampirical pussy-whippety?

"Where is your domesticated souled vampire, Slayer? He seemed so eager to please you."

Buffy frowned. "He went after Darla," she admitted reluctantly. " said it was family business."

"But of course - he's such a family man... Bronze's this way, pet."

Buffy fell in step with Spike. "So, who was that Prince of Lies that he had dusted? He really was a prince? And why was Angel so angry about the Master's girlfriend's old love affair?"

Spike chuckled lighting his cigarette. Their little trip to Bronze could be quite entertaining.

"Darla is Angelus' sire, pet. Do you know what "sire" means?"

Buffy winced.

"Yes, Mr. Robson has explained it to me... So, Darla is like Angel's mom? She made him her son?"

"Not Angel's. Angelus'. And not just a son - a lover, a friend..." Spike automatically switched to his sexy and mellifluous voice. "A pupil, a confidant... Are you sure you want to know everything about your beloved Peaches, Slayer? Or you want to find another way to feed your Slayer kinks? Even by vampire standards you found yourself on top of Peaches too quickly. I bet humans don't even come close to satisfying your needs. Slayer libido is a bitch, isn't it?"

"Shut up, Spike."

"Oh, I can shut up - who will enlighten you? Your Mr. Robson whose task is to put the Council party line in your head before he sends you to your death? Or our poor alcoholic Giles who pores over old manuscripts?"

Buffy shot a sidelong glance at Spike.

"Have you really killed two Slayers?"

He smiled dreamily. "The best moments of my un-life, pet. I killed my first Slayer a century ago - but I still remember every moment of our fight. Oh, the unforgettable taste of her blood - a medicine for all the maladies, the sweetest, most intoxicating drink... Ouch!"

He could hardly avoid the second blow - the Slayer's fist narrowly missed his ear. Spike tried to hide his excitement. The girl needed a dominatrix outfit and a whip.

"Oi! What was that for?"

"That's for saying that my blood is rotten and insipid! And that I'm a bony bitch!"

"Truth hurts, Slayer? Look at yourself. You punched me, knowing that I can't punch you back. Who are you after that? And - you are bony! Have you looked in the mirror recently?"

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "A girl should be slim and fit! Well, there are perverts who like fat chicks..."

"Come on, luv. I like well-shaped dolls like Miss Alternate Universe. She's not fat, but she has nice curves..."

"What? You like that nasty bitch Cordelia? I can't understand what men see in her!"

Spike bit his lip to hide a smirk. It was almost too easy to push this girl's buttons.

"Let's see. She doesn't beat them up. She likes it when men do something nice for her."

"She likes to use them."

"Let me tell you a Very Big Secret, luv. We love being exploited. Especially when we can demonstrate our manly merits in the process. We are vain and we love other people for the good things we do for them. Because we want to be heroes. That's why our Watcher pulls in his belly in Cordelia's presence and Peaches dances attendance upon her..." Spike couldn't resist the temptation to mimic his sire.

Buffy's giggle was an unexpected balm for his ears; seeing her smiling made him giddy. Apparently, he'd drunk too much bourbon. Or maybe there was something in the air, some miasma from the Hellmouth.

"You should laugh more often, pet. Miss Alternate Universe reminds men about the other life, filled with fun, laugh, love. When did you last dance with a guy and felt your heart beating faster than usual? When did you last enjoy a silly prank with your friends?"

"I don't have friends." Buffy frowned. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"Let me guess. Because you don't care about me?"

"I don't "don't care" about you! I hate you."

Spike felt hurt. He knew he shouldn't feel hurt - but he was. Definitely some miasma.

"Why do you hate me, luv?"

Buffy crinkled her brow. "Hello - you're a vampire, remember? I hate vampires. They're the reason I can't have friends, family, normal life. Everybody who grows close to me typically winds up with two bloodied holes in their necks. You, vampires, have families - and us, Slayers, are always alone. It's so unfair."

She looked so forlorn that Spike felt sympathy sweeping over him. Dammit. Sunnydale was an unhealthy place for a vampire.

"You're exaggerating, luv. Surely a girl as fetching as you has a boyfriend."

Buffy shook her head.

"Are you serious? It's a true crime against your pretty face and nice ripe body. We have to find you a boyfriend who will be regularly reminding you how irresistibly sexy and insuperably yummy you are."

Buffy stifled a giggle. "I don't have time for that silly stuff. I'm busy 24/7. So many things to do, so many vamps to kill..."

"You make a grave mistake, luv. A Slayer who thinks only about killing, quickly gets a death wish."

"You want me to believe this crap?"

"Come on, Slayer, you're not stupid. You see death every day. You bath in it. It soaks into every cell of your body. Gradually it penetrates your soul. You start to wonder how you will die. You picture your death in detail. You mentally die in every battle. You wonder if it would be better to finish it once and for all. Everything will cease to exist - disgusting monsters and annoying watchers, boring people and your annoying duty to protect them. Will the release be sweet? One day you'll answer the question with a "yes". And that day one vampire will get incredibly lucky..." He faltered. It dawned on him that an idea about this girl dying a grisly death horrified him. What the hell? He forced a smirk. "Maybe that vampire will be me."

"I hate you."

"Mutually, luv. But, as long as Peaches is chasing Darla, I'm all you have."

Actually, Buffy had lied to Spike about hatingvampires.

She had stopped hating them long ago. A lumber-man doesn't hate trees, a cleaner doesn't hate garbage. Killing them was her job - nothing more, nothing less. That is - until she met William the Bloody, AKA Spike the Pain in the Ass. She hated his guts. His shit-eating smirk, his stupid shiny hair, his naughty tongue that constantly curled around his pouty lips, his muscled torso, his silky skin... she hated everything about him!

And the most annoying thing? She couldn't dust the jackass. At least, right now, as long as he was their ally. She didn't even have an excuse to punch him again. If only somebody else could do it for her - so that she could stop the attacker, save Spike and make him grateful to her till the end of his lame un-life. That would be the perfect vengeance. Not that the idiot knew how to be grateful...

When she saw a bunch of vampires emerging from the corner, she was happy to have a distraction from her confusing Spike thoughts.

Much to her annoyance they didn't pay any attention to her. It was her companion they were after.

"Kill the traitor!" they shouted. "You're a bastard, Spike! You will pay for defecting to our enemy!"

"Hey, standing right here," Buffy murmured. Why was everybody so obsessed with that stupid Spike?

"You will die, Spike! We'll kill you and the skanky bitch protecting your ass..."

Now, that was too much. The offender has turned to dust even before he had time to finish his phrase. Spike took it as a signal for a fight, and for a few minutes they were very busy. Then Buffy discovered that there was only one vampire left standing; that it was her who was fighting him; and that Spike was watching her with open admiration, doing his stupid tongue thing. Of course, she could kill the vampire in an instant, but she decided that the offender needed a lesson, so she hit and kicked him for a while, demonstrating a wide range of her Slayer abilities, and finally dusted him in a beautifully choreographed movement.

Spike clapped hands. Buffy glared at him, unsure if it was a sincere "I-admire-your-skills" applause or an ironic "I-know-you-were-showing-off-for-me" applause.

"You could have helped!" she grumbled. "After all, your skanky bitch was protecting your ass!"

Spike smiled. "Do I hear irony in your voice, pet? It's the first step towards enlightenment..."

Buffy didn t have time for a snarky comeback suddenly Spike tensed, snatched Buffy's stake and threw it into the dark space between two buildings. She heard a choked shriek and saw a cloud of dust emanating from the dark. The next moment Spike grabbed her, sent her toppling to the ground and fell on top of her.

"Idiot!" Buffy screeched. "I hate horny vampires!"

"Don't judge everybody by your own standards, Slayer," Spike groaned. "Looks like the wanker had a poisoned blade..."

Buffy noticed a dagger in his shoulder. Apparently she owed him an apology. Thankfully, she heard the approaching steps and saw a shadow on the ground, so apologies could wait. She moved Spike away and sprang to her feet.

"Slayer," growled a big lanky fellow in a cowboy hat. "You shouldn't come here in my town..."

"Don't worry, I'll get out of this hole as soon as I dust you," Buffy promised. "Who is this creep, Spike?"

"Meet Lyle Gorch," Spike groaned. "Lyle, what is it on your bleeding dagger? My shoulder is numb..."

Lyle Gorch smirked. "Viper berry extract. I told you, Spike - don't come to my town. Why doesn't anyone listen to me? Didn't I tell Pike Bishop to avoid Thornton's trap? Didn't I tell Tector not to lurk in this stinking alley?"

Spike laughed hoarsely.

"So I dusted your brother Tektor? I thought it was a big fat rat. It's so easy to confuse one for another..."

Lyle Gorch roared with fury and rushed at them, a crowbar in his hands. Buffy's roundhouse kick sent his sprawling on the ground. As Lyle tried to regain the footing, she pulled the dagger out of Spike's shoulder and stuck it between Lyle Gorch's eyes. Then she hurled him into a sharp wooden shard of a plank that protruded from the wall.

She looked around. Several piles of dust, check. An open door with a neon sign "The Bronze" two buildings down the street, check. So, she had slayed the Gorch gang - that is, if Spike's source had told the truth about them.

She stooped down to Spike to share her conclusion with him - but he was unconscious.

"Spike?" Buffy's slap brought him to his senses. "Are you okay?"

His lips moved but he couldn't utter a single word.

"Shit. Is that viper's berry dangerous?"

His eyes were closed again. This was bad.

Fighting a strange tightness in her chest, she dragged him to The Bronze. Maybe she could find help there?.

The place was deserted. Buffy dropped Spike on the stage dais, pulled off his duster, ripped off his t-shirt and examined his wound. The bleeding had already stopped, but the skin around the wound had nasty bluish color.

"Spike? You're not planning to die, are you? I mean, you're already dead, but..."

She found a bottle of bourbon and tried to pour it into Spike's mouth. No reaction. Damn. If Spike couldn't even drink bourbon, this must be bad with a Capital B.

"But there must be an antidote, Spike! Don't tell me there's no antidote!"

She had noticed a flash of hope in Spike's eyes. She tore her eyes off his muscled chest and tried to think hard. They were talking about something... something that was very close to this subject... Death wish - no, something else. Bony bitch - definitely not that... although Spike wouldpay for that, when he was fit again. Men love being exploited... good idea, but not in current situation... A medicine for all the maladies, the sweetest, most intoxicating drink...

"My blood!"

A typical case of Buffy luck. Did she really have to let this parasite feed on her?

She sighed, wiped her finger on her jeans and put it into Spike's mouth. "Drink, you parasite..."

No reaction.

Buffy threw a glass on the floor, picked up a chard and pricked her finger. Spike's nostrils trembled when a drop of blood appeared. Buffy put her finger into his mouth again and almost moaned in relief when his tongue curled around it. But after a few moments of trepidation Spike's tongue stopped moving.

Buffy examined her finger - the little wound had already closed. Screw the Slayer metabolism.

Looked like she had to open the main tap. And face the danger of being sucked dry. Could she push him away at the right moment?

"Have I already told you that I hate bloodsuckers? And you know why? Because they suck blood!"

She could have bet that, for a moment, he smirked gleefully. Apparently, she was wrong: when she looked closer, there was only pain and desperation on his face.

"Tell you what we do, Mr. Bloodsucker. This bony bitch will feed you on her insipid blood - but you can drink only until I say "stop". At my signal you leave my neck alone. You disobey - I'll feed you your balls. You kill me - Angel feeds you your balls. Understood? Okay, here we go..."

She felt the artery on her neck, carefully punctured the skin and positioned Spike so that his lips were touching the wound. For a moment he was limp and unresponsive; then he sniffed, flinched, made smacking sounds and clung to her.

She tried to stay calm and alert. It was a strictly tactical decision, wasn't it? She was saving an ally who had already helped her and could be useful in the future. But, as sweet heat started mounting up her loins, slowly, inexorably the world started rocking and things started to blur dangerously - and suddenly, she was saving them all. Mom and Dad, and Merrick, and that nameless guy in the psychiatric ward who almost believed her when she told him that monsters did exist, and those slayers-in-training - Kendra, so annoying when alive and so sad when dead, and Faith, who distracted that demon from Buffy and fell down, impaled, and asked Buffy to kiss her before she died...

...A moan escaped Buffy's lips, and she felt Spike shuddering as he tore himself from her neck and sank into her lips. At first, his kiss was searing and painful. But the coldness of the tongue was unexpectedly soothing, and when he started exploring her mouth, his lips became unbearably gentle.  
She didn't want him to be gentle. She couldn't afford the luxury of gentleness. Spike slowly licked the tear on her cheek and then gulped as she rolled him onto his back and went down on him, desperately and hungrily, like he was her last chance of finding the reason to live...

...Much, much later, when Spike spread his duster on the floor to make her comfortable, she suddenly remembered to ask him a question.

"Why did you stop feeding on me on your own?"

He looked away, unexpectedly shy.

"Um... because I'm an idiot?"

"That goes without saying - but still. Why?"

He shook his head. "I dunno."

"Come on, Spike. Are you embarrassed?"

"I'm not! And... and - I just didn't want to get dusted! You'd dust me if I sucked you dry... Okay, you couldn't dust me because you would have been dead, but your dearest Peaches would certainly kill yours truly... what?"

She smiled. After close contact with death everything seemed different. Sharper. Brighter. Her life had suddenly been filled with some unexplainable joy, and Buffy reveled in this long-forgotten sensation, nuzzling into Spike's neck and tousling his hair lazily.

"You're so sweet when you're babbling."

"Are you off your nut? I'm not babbling. Vampires can't babble."

"They totally... Don't get me distracted. I demand an explanation. Why did you stop feeding on me? Is it a part of yet another evil plan of yours?"

"I've already told you, Slayer. You weren't controlling the situation. You couldn't tell me to stop. I - I didn't want you to - I didn't want to go on drinking that rotten and insipid blood of yours."

"Yeah, sure."

"I swear! Drinking the sodding Slayer's blood is sheer torture for a vampire!"

Buffy smiled. "You know, Spike, I never met a vampire like you!"

"Maybe because I'm unique?" he purred. "Because I'm irresistibly sexy?"

She giggled. Teasing him was such fun. "Nope. It's Angel who's unique. He has a soul. You don't."

"Bollocks! I wish I had a soul to prove you wrong!"

He wasn't done saying these words when a glowing portal appeared in front of them and a woman with an ugly demon face stepped out of it.

"Wish granted!" she declared.

Next: Part 3. In which our intrepid hero saves the world, dies, resuscitates and finds his destiny. 


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3. In which our intrepid hero saves the world, dies, resuscitates and finds his destiny.

Angel was furious.

Darla, Harris and that bitch Rosenberg had managed to escape. Willy the Snitch told him that that bastard Spike, accompanied by Buffy, went to slay the Gorch gang. Angel followed their trail to the Bronze, watched the show for a while and left when the tightness in his jeans became unbearable. He spent the rest of the night dusting random vamps and imagining Spike at the sharp end of his stake.

He didn't want to return to the library. The thought of seeing Spike's smug face was unbearable. Even the prospect of spending the daytime in some abandoned building and leaving for Los-Angeles immediately after the sunset sounded much better. The only thing that bothered him was Buffy. He had to warn her against that smug bastard. Yes, just give her several words of advice. As to Spike...

Walking down the dark school hall, Angel pondered on his further actions in regards of Spike. To break his legs. To sprinkle him with holy water. To chain him to one of those big trees that grew in the school yard and let the sun do its work...

He heard distant voices and quickened his steps.

"...now I know why men avoid you like plague!" Cordelia's voice was full of contempt. "As soon as you're around, they're in trouble!"

"Men? He's a vampire. And I'm a vampire slayer."

"They should call you a vampire layer!"

The first thing Angel saw when he entered the library was his childe, curled on the couch, his cheeks wet with tears. He looked so utterly miserable that all Angel's sadistic plans evaporated.

"Getting a soul had nothing to do with sex!" Buffy snapped. "It happened afterwards. We were just talking. And suddenly that skank appears out of nowhere and grants him a soul."

Cordelia snorted. "You think I'm what, a moron? In my universe Angel lost his soul after you had sex with him. In your freaky universe Spike got his soul after you had sex with him. Do you notice a pattern? Vampire soul status always changes after sex with you!"

"Except I had sex with Angel and nothing happened to his precious soul... Spike, sweetie, please, don't cry!"

Angel sighed. He has to do something to stop it, pronto. Either knock the bastard unconscious, or... There was an almost full bottle of bourbon on the circulation desk. Thank God for small favors.

"Angel!" Cordelia exclaimed. "Are you okay? I was afraid she'd turned you into a puddle of snot too".

"Angel!" Buffy exclaimed. "What the hell it is with you vampires and your stupid souls!"

Ignoring them, he uncorked the bottle and shoved it in Spike's face.

"Drink!"

The bastard was amazingly cooperative - unlike Giles who tried to protest. But his feeble attempts to separate Spike from the bottle proved to be utterly unsuccessful, so all Giles could do was watching wistfully as his bourbon disappeared down Spike's throat.

"Sometimes lack of breath is a useful thing," he huffed. "Actually I wanted to do a relaxation spell on him..."

Angel shook his head. "Bourbon's better. Unlike magic, it doesn't have consequences. Hangover doesn't count."

Spike half-laughed, half-sobbed. "Trust an expert, Watcher. Peaches had been drowning himself in alcohol and his own snot for a hundred years... ow! That hurts, you bastard!"

Angel rubbed his fist. "Good."

Buffy pulled Angel away from Spike. "Don't hurt him."

"Sorry - forgot it's your privilege. Don't worry, he'll get better soon."

Sonofabitch was already getting better, basking in the girls' attention. It was unfair. Maybe if Angel had Buffy and Cordy fussing around him, making him comfortable on the couch, covering him with his duster and asking worriedly if he was okay, he, Angel, could have adjusted to his soul in a moment too.

He retreated to Giles' study in search of another bottle. God, he so needed rest. A couple hours of sleep before leaving that damned place for good. But as soon as he relaxed in Giles' chair, Buffy slipped into the study and plopped into the chair across him, elbows on her knees, hands cupping her chin.

"Are you angry?" And, before Angel could reply, she went on. "You have no right to be angry. I know Spike's an ass, and all, but he helped us. I had to save his life."

Angel looked at Buffy incredulously. "Save his..."

"He was wounded with a poisoned dagger. Viper's berry. The only thing that could save him was the Slayer's blood..."

Angel sighed. Should he tell her that viper's berry couldn't kill vampires? That it only paralizes them for a couple of days? Would it change anything?

"...and then we got carried away." Buffy looked at him anxiously. "Will you help me?"

Angel blinked. "Help? You?"

"Uh-huh. You have to tell me everything about the souled vampire's way of life. How he's supposed to feed? I don't want him to feed on rats. How do you get blood to eat?"

She was dead serious, Angel realized. She really wanted to take Spike under her tutelage.

"Is he a pacifist now?" she went on. "Is it politically correct if I invite him to patrol with me?"

Angel barked a laugh.

"You haven't the least idea what you're getting yourself into."

She furrowed her brow. "He has got his soul because of me - I'm responsible for him."

He chuckled bitterly. Now he understood what Whistler had meant when he said that the Slayer would need his help. But how to convince her that hooking up with Spike is a bad idea? Maybe tell her about his habit of leaving his boots on any surface, including tables and TV sets? Or about his habit of flicking TV channels for hours on end? About his love of soap operas? His smoking in bed? No, the last one would raise too many questions...

He raised his head as he heard Cordelia's steps. She looked resolute and inspired.

"Hey, guys," she said. "Does Hollywood exist in your dimension?"

"Yes," Angel said warily. "Why?"

"Is it still situated in Los-Angeles?"

He nodded. "Cordy, it's not safe there. LA is crawling with demons and vampires."

"That's okay. Spike can protect me."

"What?"

"Los-Angeles is a city of many opportunities," Cordelia explained patiently. "A souled vampire can reinvent himself as a sexy bodyguard of a rising movie star. Or, if my movie career won't pan out, we can open a detective agency together."

"Don't even think about it." Buffy crossed her hands on her chest. "Spike will go with me to Cleveland. He needs a strong Slayer hand to keep him on the side of good."

"What?" Cordelia exclaimed. She nodded at Angel. "One souled vampire isn't enough for you?"

He coughed. "Actually... I'm sorry to disappoint you both, but Spike will stay with me. I'm his sire and I know how to cope with soul stuff, since I went through it."

"What a freaky dimension," Cordelia murmured. "You really care about Spike, Angel? Because in my universe you're all about Buffy."

Buffy snorted. "Cordelia, you've got caught in your own lies. You said that me and Angel - we can't have sex."

"Oh, you absolutely can't. The last two years you successfully competed for the title of the most miserable person in Sunnydale."

Buffy sighed. "Don't tell me that in your dimension I'm a virgin."

"No, you did the nasty. Once. On your seventeenth birthday."

"And?" Angel murmured, torn between curiosity and disgust.

"Apparently, you were very happy. You unleashed Angelus, he killed a lot of people and then decided to end the world. Willow managed to return his soul, but it was too late. Buffy had to send him to hell to avoid an apocalypse."

Angel shuddered. "What a horrible universe you came from."

"She's making it up," Buffy declared. "It can't be true. Willow Rosenberg? The Master's right-hand-man? No way Angel would sleep with a soulless vampire."

Angel managed to keep his composure. He only looked away.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "In my world she's not a vampire. She's a regular student who dabbles in magic... which is hardly regular, sure, but that's beyond the point. And she didn't sleep with Angel. Why did you think that she slept with him?"

Buffy knitted her brow. "Those soul transfers - don't they always happen during sex?"

"I guess not." Cordelia shrugged. "Willow used an orb and some fancy spell - and it worked. Apparently, sex is a typically Slayer way of dealing with vampire souls."

Angel decided not to pursue the topic. "So, like I said, Spike stays with me. He needs to adapt to his soul."

"And then?"

"Then we'll go to Los-Angeles. Together," he added hastily, noticing that Cordelia has perked up. "We need to find Drusilla. She's our... um..."

"I know who that psycho is," Cordelia interrupted. "Why don't you just forget about her? Like I already said, Los-Angeles is a great city for pretty boys with supernatural abilities."

"We need to help her," Angel said. "She is very sick. We have to decipher the rituals in the Du Lac codex and then we'll go to her..."

Cordelia furrowed her brow. "The ritual? You don't need to decipher it. The cure for your wacko is..."

"Where is Spike?" Giles appeared in the doorway, disheveled and concerned.

Angel felt his stomach knot. "Isn't he sleeping on the couch?"

Giles shook his head. "He's disappeared."

Of course, it was all Spike's fault.

Buffy had planned to nap for a couple of hours. Then she'd planned to have a little shopping spree and maybe even watch a movie in the local theater. Instead of it, she had to deal with Spike's disappearance.

She tried not to panic. Spike could have snuck out to Willy's for another bottle of bourbon. Or maybe he needed quality time for brooding alone - judging by Angel's behavior, it was typical for souled vampires. Silly, pathetic bloodsucker. She wasn't worried about him at all.

She heard steps behind the door and leaped on her feet. Spike would so pay for spoiling her day!

Her heart clenched when she saw Angel enter, alone, Spike's duster in his hands.

"I found it in the boiler room," he said, throwing the duster on the couch. "I checked - there is a trapdoor that leads to the sewer system. The smell is strong - whoever it was, they only kidnapped Spike a few minutes ago. I can easily trace them."

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. "It could be a trap."

"I don't care!" Buffy exclaimed, reaching for her crossbow. "We have to save that moron before it's too late!"

"We have to be prepared to save that moron," Giles countered. "I have a couple of ideas but I have to check my sources."

"He's right," Angel said. "The Master's minions could have kidnaped Spike to lure all of us into a trap. If we all die there, we won't help him. Don't get worked up, Buffy. If they wanted to kill him, he'd already be dust. Try to get some rest."

Buffy was sure she wouldn't be able to relax. But, as soon as she dropped down on the couch and covered herself with Spike's duster, the smell of leather, tobacco and bourbon made her head float. She closed her eyes and lost herself in strange, disturbing sensations. Somebody unbearably blond and blue-eyed kissed her neck, stroked her hair, shook her shoulder...

"Mmmm... Spike..."

She opened her eyes. Angel quickly withdrew his hand.

"Buffy, wake up." He looked grim. "Giles has news."

His expression left no doubt that the news was bad. Giles was gloomy too.

"I presume they kidnapped Spike because they need his blood. If my apprehension is right, they want to restore the Master. There is this bit in the Yerrell codex - to do a successful revivification ritual of a master vampire, you need his bones - which they have - and the blood of the closest person, someone connected to the vampire.

"Spike was close to the Master?" Buffy shuddered. "Tell me it's not what I think."

"It's not what you think," Angel said quickly. "Close - as in "standing close to the Master when he was destroyed."

Buffy felt better - but her relief was short-lived.

"There is more, I'm afraid," Giles said. "After a successful revivification a Master vampire becomes practically invincible. Only direct sunlight destroys him."

"What?" Buffy leapt to her feet. "We have to stop the ritual ASAP!"

"But it could be a trap," Cordelia reminded.

"Or both," Angel added. "They could prepare a ritual and a trap at the same time."

"I don't care! I have to save Spi... I mean, to stop the stupid ritual."

"She's right," Giles sighed. "We have to stop it at any cost. I go with you."

Cordelia raised her hand. "I'm with you. I know how to use a crossbow."

Buffy stuck a stake under her belt and nodded.

"I'm ready. Angel, lead the way."

Spike would so pay for this. For depriving her of good sleep. For making her roam in stinky sewers, rats squealing under her feet. For feeling helpless and desperate at the thought that he could be sacrificed in a stupid ritual. He would be paying, and paying, and paying, in all the positions of Kama Sutra... Okay, maybe not all of them... She'd agree on the most popular, as long as he was okay. Please, dear Powers that Bitch, if you really exist, let him be okay... Let this moron survive long enough so that she could kick his pallid vampire ass.

When the foursome arrived at the basement of a church a quarter of an hour later, Buffy was very angry. Her mood didn't improve when they hid behind the dilapidated pew and she saw an altar with the Master's bones on it, a group of vampires in front of the altar - and above it...

A big wheel hung above the altar. Spike, shirtless, was tied to the wheel and Darla was painting a magic sign on his forehead.

"You stink of virtue," she scolded him. "Your soul is disgusting."

"Nobody's perfect, luv." Spike groaned as she pinched his nipple viciously. "I'll never forget how attached you were to your oh-so-souled Peaches. I bet you were attracted to The Immortal because of the forbidden fruit of virtue. Admit it, you were turned on when he boasted about his one hundred and fifty years spent in a Tibet monastery. As for the Prince of Lies..."

"Don't you dare talk like that about my men..." she hissed and grabbed a stake.

"Your men? I happily let you have two old buggers with shrunk sticks and balls - the more so since both are dead. But Angel has never been your man. You had to share him with Dru, with me..."

Of course, it was all Spike's fault that Buffy gasped, stumbled and almost fell. Angel steadied her, but Darla and the other vampires heard the noise and rushed to the pew.

"I hate Spike!" Angel murmured as Darla launched herself into him, knocking him into the wall.

Buffy rained punches on her opponents furiously, happy to channel her anger, while Giles and Cordelia held their own against confused Xander who was trying vainly to understand why Cordelia was so pissed at him.

"You're the most worthless member of the black leather boys club!" she screeched. "The trapezoid silhouette of your jacket is so eighties! And your pearl chain? Totally lame! And the white wife-beater? You're pathetic, you know?"

Xander, dazed by her sartorial insults, parried her blows absently. "Look at yourself, silly vampire bait," he murmured.

Buffy didn't notice Willow sneaking to the altar and didn't hear her reading the incantation. Only when she cut Spike's chest, Buffy heard his indignant cry and rushed to the wheel.

Too late. His blood was already spilled on the bones. Shit. Buffy flung Willow away and cut the bonds that tied Spike to the rim. He fell into her embraces like a rag doll.

"You came," he murmured, and she felt her eyes stinging. Stupid eyes.

"Dammit, Spike, you're such an ass! I hate you!" She sniffled. "The next time you get drunk try not to be kidnapped, okay?"

And then the earth trembled.

Buffy looked up. The Master loomed over them like a rock. An obnoxious, gloating rock in need of a dental plan.

"Oh, shit. Spike, wait here. I have to deal with this creep."

The Master laughed and his laughter echoed in thunder.

"Come to me, little girl. Time to teach you a lesson."

"You know what, freak? I've had too many vampire lessons in the last 24 hours." Buffy swung a pole-axe and hit him in the chest.

The Master roared furiously and charged at her. She sidestepped him and he crashed on the floor. Spike unceremoniously kicked him in the ass.

"You will pay for your insolence, Spike," the Master screeched. "Every new generation of vampires is even more arrogant than the previous one! I've said it for the last thousand years and nobody listens!"

Buffy came at him in a hail of blows pushing him toward the entrance. Her body sang as Spike joined her, alternating blows and barbs. Stunned by their double impact, the Master started to retreat.

"Giles! Cordy! The door!"

They rushed to open heavy metal doors. The sun was already up and its light made the Master hiss in disgust. Buffy and Spike almost pushed him outside, in the sun - but Spike couldn't go further and Buffy alone wasn't strong enough to propel him outdoors. She punched and kicked him, but the Master held his own.

"Help me, somebody!" she barked.

Spike swore, stepped back and dashed forward, leaping at the Master, tackling him, using his momentum to send them both into sunlight...

"Spike!"

Buffy gasped as both he and the Master turned into dust.

"Buffy, you can't just leave like this. I need your report. It's an unprecedented case in the history of The Council - a vampire getting his soul back after sex with a Slayer..."

Buffy quickened her steps.

"Buffy, don't you understand how important it could be? If we could figure out the mechanism of the re-ensoulment, maybe we'll be able to reproduce it outside of the sexual context..."

She stopped so abruptly that he almost bumped into her.

"I told you, Giles - I don't know how it happened! And I'm sure that this kind of outrage could have happened only to Spike! Because that moron always asked for trouble. Stupid, disgusting bloodsucker".

She sniffled and turned away. Giles coughed, embarrassed. He couldn't stand seeing women cry. Why couldn't he hug her and tell her that she's an amazing woman and she'll absolutely find a man worthy of her, without that pesky sun allergy?..

She blew her nose angrily and sighed. "Bye, Giles. Try not to die."

He watched her walk away until she disappeared around the corner. He knew he would be missing her. He was already missing her. With a heavy heart Giles made his way back to the library, vaguely hoping that Angel and especially Cordelia had left too, so that he could put the events of the last 24 hours on paper without any distractions.

"...you know, Angel, a person who enjoys drinking alone is the first sign of alcoholism."

The scent of bourbon was so strong one didn't need vampire sense of smell to notice it. Giles entered the library and quickly assessed the situation: half of his last bottle empty, Angel brooding and Cordelia playing the role of the shoulder - or, rather, a bosom - to cry on.

"It's over, Cordy," Angel murmured. "The Aurelius clan, once powerful and feared, all but ceased to exist. I can't believe I killed Darla with my own hands... and now I'm the last one. Spike is dead. The Master is dead. Dru is crazy, she won't live much longer without Spike. I can't believe he bit the dust. He seemed indestructible..."

Cordelia stroke his hair. "Shhhhh... You know, Angel, I never thought you'd be so sad about Spike's dusty end."

"He was an annoying bastard, Cordy, but he was family. It's so unfair that he's gone now when he got his soul back. I feel like a part of me is gone with him. I wish he'd be back and call me Peaches again..."

"I always wanted to ask why he called you Pea... Hey, what is it?"

Spike's duster on the couch started to glow. Cordelia shrieked when the glowing portal spat out a woman with an ugly demon face.

"Wish granted!" she announced.

Cordelia gasped, grabbed the cross and pointed at her. "I know you! You're Anya, my classmate. It was you who sent me to this freaky dimension... Don't even try to deny it! I remember that Spike took your trinket and put it into the pocket of his duster!"

Giles rushed to the duster, but Anya was quicker.

"Nobody grabs my pendant with dirty human hands!" She put the trinket on her neck and looked around in disgust. "I hate the place you created, Chase. The local Slayer is a nymphomaniac, the local vampires are whiny neurotics, and the local demons waste their nights playing rabbit poker..."

"Totally agree," Cordelia said quickly. "I want... no, I - wish - to go back to my own dimension!"

Anya beamed. "Wish granted!"

Giles blinked. No, it wasn't a hallucination. Cordelia and the demon woman have disappeared. The probability of delirium tremens could be excluded - he'd drunk nothing but tea for the last 24 hours. Maybe it was for the best that Cordelia went where she came from. Now the only person he had to deal with was Angel...

...who was staring, his mouth open, at something behind Giles' shoulder.

"Peaches... what the bleeding hell?"

Giles spun around. On the steps of the stairway, sat Spike - rumpled, utterly miserable, but in one piece.

"The old bugger got dusted?" he asked, wincing. "Where's Buffy?"

"Buffy left for Cleveland," Giles said warily. "What happened to you, Spike? Where have you been?"

"Nowhere! I felt like I was disintegrating, fading away - then I suddenly sit here, my head splitting. Worse than hangover!"

"Recorporealising is a bitch," Angel murmured, staring at Spike incredulously.

Spike groaned. "I can't understand how that slicker Dracula could get dusted and coalesce again that many times without a headache! The bastard was definitely using some magic!"

Giles snickered despite himself. "I'm afraid, yours is a case of magic too. Angel expressed a wish to have you back, and he did it in the presence of a vengeance demon, hidden in the pendant that you, Spike, took from Cordelia. Which begs the question of whether you had accidentally wished for a soul in The Bronze."

"Oh, bleeding..." Spike grabbed his head in pain. "I'm such an idiot!"

"Pity I don't have a tape recorder," Angel said.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'". Giles sighed ruefully. And he was already composing a memo mentally. A memo about the necessity for creating an affiliation of The Council to study the influence of The Hellmouth on the aberrations within the vampire population, based on his sensational discovery of Slayer sex being the crucial element in re-ensoulment and de-souling... Prat.

"Hopefully hangover and recorporealising are fixed with the same medicine." Spike grabbed the bottle, and Giles got more proof that the lack of breath was a very useful thing. It was his last bottle, but, at least, it was an interesting experiment and he could later use this tidbit in a thesis later, if he ever manages to write one...

Spike shook his head and smiled.

"Thanks for the cure, Watcher. Now all I need is Buffy's address in Cleveland."

"I guess my bourbon helped."

Spike nodded. "The thought that the bourbon was yours worked miracles. So, the address..."

"You can't go to Cleveland," Angel said quickly. "We have to find a cure for Dru first."

Spike's smile waned. "Oh. I forgot that we have to decipher Du Lac's rituals... What are we waiting for, then?"

"We can't decipher them," Giles said. "The rituals could only be decoded with the cross of Du Lac. I'm afraid Cordelia Chase has taken the cross with her to wherever she went."

"Dammit. Once I'm gone, the girls run away. So, what do we do?"

Giles hesitated. Maybe it wasn't a particularly good idea, but, given that these two had souls...

"I'd recommend you to look for the cure in the Russelheim compendium. The only existing copy is kept in Watcher's Council's Headquarters in Cleveland, but I know a couple of Watchers who are open-minded enough to cooperate with vampires..."

"Wait a sec!" Spike exclaimed and got to his feet. "You said 'Cleveland'? See, Angel?"

"What?"

"I have to go to Cleveland. To Buffy." Spike beamed. "Like somebody says, it's my destiny!"

"Destiny, your little sarcastic ass," Angel said. "Tell her she's the bravest woman on Earth, falling for a moron like you."

Spike smiled dreamily. "That's my girl."

"You hurt her - I'll personally stake you."

"Uh-huh. Keep on dreaming about sticking your manly stake into my lily-while ass..."

Giles realized he was smiling. Life went on. Life, full of surprises.

Maybe if he persisted he'd be lucky enough to witness the prophesied reunion of three true champions, after all.

P.S.

Xander Harris inhaled deeply and passed his cigarette to Willow Rosenberg. "So, the two of us against the whole world again?"

She looked around, took in their surroundings - sewers, debris, squeaking rats - and snickered. "Yeah. Like in high school."

The end 


End file.
